Runaway Train
by Arianna555
Summary: He sits by the window, staring outside. A new section of his life lies at the end of this trip, and the familiar game can't be repeated anymore... [one shot, implying Literati]


**Runaway Train**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own GG. I don't own any songs, books, or movies. And just please don't sue, because I seriously have less than five dollars right now…lol…I buy too many books…:P Lyrics at the beginning and end are from "Magic," by Ben Folds Five; lyrics in the middle are from "Mr. Jones," also by Ben Folds Five. The lines that seem like they're from "Nick and Nora, Sid and Nancy"...the idea is from there, but they're not meant to be _exactly_ the same...

**A/N:** I got this idea while I was writing something else, from listening to "Magic." And it made me think of a train for some reason, and I was on a train for 4 days last summer, and so…lol. Had to write this. Currently I'm not sure what the background to this is…guess I'll find out as I write it! But it's pretty much totally AU. And speaking of Ben Folds Five, you should listen to "Magic" if you haven't, because it's a great song! I hope you like this, and I'd love to hear what you think. (BTW, the little inconsistencies with the one dash/two hyphens will be fixed! *grins*)  ~Ari

Thanks so much to Marissa for the songs! I'm seriously addicted now… And again, thanks millions to Elise for beta-ing this for me! I really appreciate all your help and suggestions…you're so awesome! And also thanks to Tye, for her continued reviews and encouragement ever since my first fic! (I can't believe it's been so long since then.) You rock. 

*******

_I knew you'd be gone as soon as you could_

_And I hoped you would_

_We could see that you weren't yourself_

_And the lines on your face did tell_

_It's just as well_

_You'd never be yourself again…_

____

He sits by the window, staring outside, but all he can see is blurred green and brown; the trees and the buildings mixing in his vision. There are no singular objects, plants, or people out that window, and very little seems real at all right now.

The blurriness is not from crying. He doesn't cry, but holds it all inside, not telling anyone what is wrong, not bothering to explain how he feels, and not letting anybody know what he wants to tell them. That is why he is here. Sitting on a train, speeding across the country, leaving everything he knows and everything he'd like to say he loves behind.

Now they are both alone.

He wonders if she feels the same way. No, she couldn't…she has always had a better handle on life than he has. Despite the running away they both have done, she has always been willing to explain. Hasn't she? 

Not this time, not really. But he deserves this. There have been just too many times he hurt her. Just too many times he was wrong, and too many times he lied (even if only slightly) and didn't explain. It doesn't matter that she hurt him too.

Her kind of running away is leaving the diner and hurrying home. His is getting on an express train and disappearing, without telling anyone where he has gone.

He is The Bad Guy; he always has been. He came from The City and he took _her_ heart, and oh my God—this thought is pure sarcasm—he did more than just kiss her quickly and softly in the middle of the town, where everyone could keep a careful eye on them. Well, he liked it—being with her—and he wanted it, and he thought she had wanted it too. Not that anything had happened…but there was no denying that they had come close.

_"Hey," she says softly._

_He allows himself a quick smile. "Hey." He slips an arm around her waist, enjoying the feeling of her leaning on him. The diner is nearing empty, and he wants to leave, wants to walk in the darkness with her. She senses this and smiles. She wants the same thing, but she will wait (almost) patiently here, until..._

_They are outside, and he is kissing her; she is kissing him; both are oblivious to everything else. Neither of them needs to talk--they stand, and then sit, close together. On the bridge, he feels her begin to fall asleep on his shoulder, and for a second he actually wonders if he could carry her home..._

And then things had gotten worse. Fights for no reason, and for reasons that were all too serious. Fights that eventually led to him running away from his (almost) perfect girlfriend, and therefore earning the status of stupid, thoughtless, apathetic—He can't help wondering if Rory now thinks any differently of him than the rest of the town does, up to and including Taylor.

She shouldn't.

Right?

She'd wanted it to be over. She was tired of it, of the constant hurt that filled the holes in the great relationship they'd had. Or had once had. Of the kissing, of the 'I love you's that had begun to turn bittersweet. It was only a few weeks ago that he started to get scared she didn't mean it the same way. Of course, she meant it. She doesn't say that kind of thing without meaning it, but it was still possible that she meant it in a different way than she had that first time, at the bridge, between kisses, when neither of them could stop smiling. Those were the days.

'Those were the days'? He's using expressions like that? He allows himself a sardonic laugh. If he's thinking that, then something has changed, all right.

_She sighs and smiles. The sun is setting; it is a summer night, and the noise of people throughout Stars Hollow fades from the air, leaving clear quiet, a soft breeze, a still lake, and a pink and gold sky._

_"Don't you love that color?" she asks him, nodding her head in the direction of the clouds. He nods and pulls her closer. She turns in his arms; their lips meet. She smiles again. He wants to hold her tightly and kiss her for real, but he knows this is not the time. He settles into a comfortable position, her frame against his. The truth is, he enjoys this. Who would have thought?_

_She fits perfectly against him. _

_A year ago he'd never have dreamed he would be somewhere like this. He is used to all good things having a bad side, but for the life of him, he can't find one here..._

If something had changed in their relationship, it would have been his fault. She was the consistent one. 

Damn it, it was always his fault! And no one ever stopped to consider anything else. Because he was Jess, otherwise—and more commonly—known as That Guy. The "nickname" was not a compliment.

Only last week…he had thought things were going okay. 'Okay' had a different meaning now than it used to…At the beginning of their relationship, 'okay' was only seeing each other six days out of every week. Good memories. Then 'okay' had become not fighting, still being happy to see each other, although tension was wearing at both of them. And then something had snapped.

_"Get up, Dodger." He opens his eyes and sees her standing over him. _Nice way to wake up_, he thinks..._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_She grins. "Luke let me up." She sits on the edge of his bed. He lies back down and pretends to fall asleep again. She pulls on his arm. "Jess!"_

_"Rory," he teases her, sitting up. She sighs in pretend annoyance; kisses him. He brushes a strand of hair off her face; kisses her back. "Hey," he says quietly._

_"Hey..." she replies, smiling. _

_He kisses her again, softly. He wants to fall into their usual banter, but for once, for some unknown reason,  he doesn't know what to say..._

Dean's return to Stars Hollow…it hadn't been what ruined everything, but it had surely been a factor. He came back with…was it Lindsay? And they were happy, or pretending to be. When one of them was somewhere, the other was sure not to be more than ten feet away. Calling each other nicknames and kissing, and it was really getting sickening. At least, Jess thinks so. He'll never be Dean and doesn't want to be. He'd thought Rory was glad--she'd broken up with Dean, hadn't she?--but now he isn't sure.

His reluctance to tell her how he felt? That had played a role too. She understood him without him speaking, and to him that was enough. He understood her too—not that he minded her talking. But he could never tell her that either. But as the (sudden) end neared, he had sensed that knowing wasn't enough for her. She wanted to hear him say it all; wanted him to really talk to her, about everything. He never did. Had he?

The college thing had also been a part of it. He'd never wanted to talk about it, beyond congratulating her for her acceptance letters. He was glad she was going to Yale, glad they wouldn't have to break up because she was going to school a state away. But the relief abruptly turned to regret when she started asking him what _he_ was going to do. He didn't want to go to college—he had barely graduated high school, because it wasn't something he cared about. But she did care, and she wanted to know, and she wanted him to have a plan. This was the source of most of the arguments, although they were all slightly different.

There would be yelling, and then one or both of them would walk away. And there would be the few hours where he sat and read, and hoped he hadn't made her cry. And her cautious, nervous entrance into the diner for dinner, alone, silently hoping he would be there. He always was. They would repeat the same lines about the books they were reading, and it would end with coffee, lighthearted banter, kissing and apologies.

That part was nice. But the fighting in between that had gotten more and more frequent…they were too different. Or maybe they were just too much alike. Smart. Stubborn. Refusing to give in.

Last week they had played the same game. But this time it had ended with a different conversation…she had looked away and asked why this kept happening. He had shrugged uncomfortably; hadn't answered. So she had spoken. She was always the one who talked for both of them, unless they were alone. (He only really talked to her. And even then, it wasn't enough. But the rest of the time, he had to fill his role as The-Don't-Give-A-Damn-City-Kid.)

And basically, what she had meant by everything she said was: this isn't working. And as much as he disagreed with her, she was the only tie holding him to that annoying town. He left early the next morning, before the sun began to rise, without a note. She knows him well enough—she will know that he has gone. Probably she already knows. He wonders if she is upset.

He still cares.

He is not supposed to care. But he does.

And he knows that she cares too. But now she can't come to the diner, ask for coffee, and apologize. Where is he now? Kansas? It looks like it. He can't tell the difference anymore. He returns to staring out the window; seeing nothing but a blur of color, again. Because the train is moving so fast. There are no tears in his eyes; there never are.

No one else is in the observation car. Who else would want to see this? Dull green against a gray sky. They will all come out here when the train moves into the mountains, and that is when he will find a corner where no one will see him. He does not want to be mistaken for a regular friendly traveler. 

Now they are both alone. The truth of that fact is hitting him harder.

_____

_No one is left here_

_That knows his first name_

_And life barrels on like a runaway train_

_Where the passengers change_

_They don't change anything_

_You get off; someone else can get on…_

_____

Why does he still care? He ought to have learned not to. It was just another phase in his life. The part where he stayed in a town that could be measured in yards and dated Rory Gilmore.

But he can't pass it off like that. It is more important and he doesn't know why.

The train slows and comes to a stop. They are in the middle of nowhere, and everything is grass and trees and one broken-down barn in the distance. The sky is still the same dull gray. This is even more the opposite of Stars Hollow than New York City is. It is too empty. Weeds grow between the other set of train tracks he sees, some probably taller than he is. It's almost likethe Shivering Sands in The Moonstone.****

Their discussion about that book had been a good one. Their opinions were always slightly different, and the differences always made it interesting. At the same time, they always agreed on the important things, and both of them knew it, even if neither ever said it.

The train is still not moving. There are no announcements. Maybe something has broken down. He considers getting out and walking into that field, just straight on, with no idea where he is going and no idea where he wants to end up. Maybe that would be better than trying to find a life somewhere else. He ought not to take any more chances. He can screw up anything good, and he has three years worth of proof.

When the train starts up again, it will go on and on, heading further across the country, and maybe he will never find it in himself to go back to that small town in Connecticut and tell people how he really feels. Tell people he is sorry. Maybe that silent goodbye before he left, at three in the morning, really was it. The end. There are no second chances anymore.

He got on this train to change things, didn't he? But what good could this really do when you came down to it...he never changes.

Everyone had thought he had. Being with Rory, working in the diner, living in Stars Hollow... They no longer have town meetings about him, do they?

The train begins to move again. Slowly, slowly, and then faster. The world outside is clearer, but still nothing is sharp, and he starts to feel off-balance, even though he doesn't know why. In the distance, there is a house sitting in the middle of a field.  He can see tiny figures against the open grass. People running around, looking like they're having fun. For anyone else, the scene would probably remind them of days when they were a kid, careless and loving it. But not Jess. He doesn't have memories like that...

It speeds up. Faster and faster, moving further and further away from that tiny town in New England...it's crazy, but he can almost feel every yard. 

He pictures Rory sitting on her bed, crying. Or lying there, reading calmly. Both ideas hurt. Again, he wonders where she is right now.

There must be some weird texture on the tracks.  As it moves, there are strange sounds...click-click-click... It seems to be saying "stars-hollow-stars-hollow-stars-hollow..."

_"Nice to meet you," she says. "I'm Rory."_

_"I figured." He glances around her room. "Hooked on phonics, are we?"_

_"I love to read." She looks up at him, and he notices her deep blue eyes. "Do you read?"_

_"Not much." He takes Howl from the shelf, looks at it, and puts it back. It looks like she has good taste._

_"I can lend you that if you want. It's great."_

_"Oh, no thanks."  He wanders out of the room; she follows him._

_"You want a soda?"_

_"Sure," he answers..._

That was the beginning. Back then he would never have expected that he would be here, like this, thinking about what he is thinking about...

It was great while it lasted, wasn't it? Was there something he should have done differently? What will happen next? He doesn't know...he doesn't even know where this train is taking him. He will find out when it reaches the end. This seems to be a pattern in his life. Sudden endings. Or sudden beginnings.

He continues staring out the window. Everything continues to rush by. They will be out of the middle states soon, and then there will be something to see. That is when he will go hide. He's not out here to watch the world go by, not really. He didn't come because he wanted to see the world.

He realizes he's hungry. He hasn't eaten anything since...

Since the night before he left when he stole fries from Rory's plate.

He can still see the dark town, the empty diner, the shadowy gazebo...Rory's house, the porch lights off and the garage open. They never remembered to close that door. And something tells him he will be seeing it again. Maybe they were right. Maybe he did change. Maybe... And now, he does not have to worry about what people will think of him, for a while. The thought is half good and half awful.

He stands. His hand grips the doorknob, and he steps into the small space between cars. If he went to the side either way, he could fall. But he doesn't. Everything is shaking; the sounds of the train rattling pounding in his head.

He opens the door slowly and moves into the next car. Another section of his life lies at the end of this train--at the end of this trip. Maybe there will be a seat left in the dining car where he can sit alone and think. Maybe someday he can learn not to keep everything inside.

A single tear slips down his face. It will be the only one, but it is a step.

Maybe there is still a possibility of things working out. He'll never know until it happens...

But for now, he will not dwell on the kind of disaster that was less than a few days ago. He can't know if things will be better where he is going, but for sure, they will be different. Stars Hollow was so different from New York, and that was still okay, even good, in a way. Wherever he ends up, it will be different...

Everything always is, isn't it?

­­_____

_Saw you last night_

_Dance by the light of the moon_

_Stars in your eyes_

_Free from the life that you knew..._


End file.
